Fourteen
by Draco Malfoy is Blonde
Summary: "Harry, he yelled, to get Malfoy's attention, you know, then he sort of slashed his wand - like a sword - and Malfoy just, died. Everyone saw it. We were just going to dinner, the entrance hall was packed." Ron Weasley looked everywhere but at the friend he didn't know that well after all. Harry was suspicious of Malfoy, but to butcher him? Maybe Harry really had gone mad?
1. I

_Fourteen_

_Disclaimer; Ideas taken from Harry Potter are the intellectual property of J. . _

* * *

Harry was kneeling in front of Voldemort, his hands were bound, and the sharp tip of Tom's wand was poking painfully into the back of his neck. They were facing a scene in courtroom ten, a memory, of Harry's trial.

"Mr. Harry Potter, you are hereby charged with the murder of Mr. Draco Malfoy, how do you plead?"

"Guilty," the Harry in the centre of the room replied. Harry watched who he knew was Rabastain Lestrange impersonating him, sitting in the chained chair calmly. In the stands Hermione was wearing a stony expression whilst Ron looked mildly sick.

"He was up to something!" 'Harry' yelled, "I knew it, he was working for Voldemort, he has the mark-"

"Enough!" It was Narcissa Malfoy who stood, shaking violently, eyes puffy and red, looking like she hadn't slept in weeks. Andromeda pulled her back into her seat.

"Mr. Malfoy was not working for Voldemort, Mr. Potter, and indeed that wouldn't be a just reason to brutally attack him at school. Healer Gimson from St. Mungo's will now present the official medical report."

A tall thin man with wispy grey hair and a long face stood at the lectern for the witnesses and coughed loudly.

"Mr. Malfoy suffered large cursed gashes to the thorax, head and abdomen. He was killed instantly due to irreparable damage too the heart and lungs."

"Thank you Mr Gimson, the Court calls Ronald Weasley to the stand..."

Ron told the story of Draco Malfoy being butchered in the entrance hall on the 23rd of September 1996. Then Hermione, McGonagall, Crabbe and Goyle, Neville, Seamus, Zabini, a Hufflepuff Harry didn't know the name of and about 3 other students before the Head Mugwump stood.

"I've heard enough," he looked at Harry. "Pleading guilty to the murder of Draco Malfoy and with countless witnesses to the offence, with no objections?" There was a pause as he looked at the Wizangmont, who all stayed silent. Then he banged his gavel on the desk. "Life in Azkaban."

The Dementors surged forward to grab him, but Lestrange was faster. The chains began to unwind and he leapt from the chair.

"I'll not go to Azkaban!" He screamed, "Not for fighting him!"

Babbling similar things, he leapt over the wall separating the audience from the floor and hit an old witch, snatching her wand. Green light filled the room and the Head Mugwump kneeled over, dead, a blasting hex caused the roof to collapse and the courtroom shook. More killing curses were fired off by the demented Lestrange before he screamed, "If you can't beat them, join them!"

People in the crowd stood, each with Death Eater masks in place to assist the criminal, the crowds stood to fight, they stood to flee, but through all of the confusion and commotion, the Death Eaters were able to escape, along with Lestrange, still disguised as Harry.

It was like being pulled from underwater when Voldemort yanked him out of the pensive, and then they were flying, the pain from Harry's scar nearly rendered him unconscious, Harry remembered seeing the lights of city's flash below them in the night, and he remembers a salty sea smell, then he remembers a bang, flashing lights, Voldemort's disfigured, snakey face smiling at him and then nothing.

Harry woke up on the floor, it was damp and cold and really smelly. There was a bucket in the corner and a cot with a thick but filthy blanket on it. He was in a thin striped tunic style shirt and pants that were like pajama pants but felt like a hessian bag. He stood on wobbly legs and bare feet and wrapped his arms around his body, shuffling to the bars of his cell. Looking out over the prison was terrifying. The cells rose around the walls in a huge hollow room. The stone ceiling was vaulted and the hollow centre of the building was full of dementors. Harry imagined he was near the top. Maybe three cells from the top, and the dementors flew in circles in the dark room like a slow, wispy, black hurricane, thick and cold and horrible.

Harry tried his best to ignore the memories in his head, they weren't so bad now. The nightmares were so much worse. At first he couldn't do anything but cry. He knew he was innocent, Voldemort had framed him for Malfoy's murder, then made 'Harry' escape from his trial and join the Dark Lord. Lestrange had killed and attacked more people than Harry would ever know about, wearing Harry's skin, before Voldemort left Harry to be caught and thrown in jail by the Ministry.

He knew he was innocent, just like Sirius but Harry couldn't become an animal to save his mind. He just sort of existed now. The worst part was the boredom. He got used to the memories after the first year. Then he was just bored.

Didn't stop the nightmares, or the visions from Voldemort, or numb the pain of seeing his mother die over and over and over and over. it was the same. Cold and painful and grey - his clothes and skin and walls and food, all grey. his mood and thoughts and tears were all grey. His boredom was all grey.

It wasn't until the fourteenth year that anything exciting happened.

Harry was laying on the cot, he could smell piss and sweat and dirt. All he could hear was screaming now. His face was itchy, the thick black and grey beard uncontrolled and his hair was at least down to his shoulders. He knew he was disturbingly thin and his eyes darted around wildly but knew very little else. The prison didn't shake and there were no loud bangs.

Fourteen long years he had been here and it was the first time he felt warm. There was a light and a sound other than screaming. A glowing dragon, only about a foot long was at the bars of Harry's cage, making the dementors flee from around his cell and the chilling cold receded to just cold.

"Harry, Harry, Harry."

Harry smiled at the familiar voice.

"Hello Tom," Harry swung around to face the snake faced man and Lucius Malfoy who was keeping his patronus conjured to fend off the dementors.

Tom looked annoyed at the name but suffered it. "Here to kill me?" Harry asked, nonchalant. "Finally."

"Yes." He lifted his wand and the bars of Harry's cell seemed to melt away. "There are whispers, that you might have been innocent," Tom said, "And I'm going to kill you and then clear your name."

"Ah," Harry sighed, "Crushing some more hope I see. Lets make it fun, shall we, Tom?"

"It will already be fun, Harry?"

"Make it fair. Give me my freedom and make me fight for it." Harry stood abruptly, despite Tom's drawn wand. He laughed.

"Lucius!"

The old man came forward, Tom plucked the wand from the man's fingers.

"My lord, please-" Lucius said, trying to snatch the Hawthorn wand back. "It was my son's!"

Voldemort just shoved Lucius back with a hiss.

Voldemort threw the wand at Harry who didn't catch it, but scrambled for it after it clattered to the floor. Tom drew out a thin, tall corked glass vial with swirling blue memories.

"Your freedom." He stated, leaving the vial on the very edge of the cot. Harry smiled.

"Either way, Tom, I'm free. _Avada Kedavra!_" Voldemort dodged the killing curse and the fight started. Each side was evenly matched, beautifully vicious and equally deranged. It was not skill or luck which swayed this fight. But love.

"MALFOY!" Harry screamed above the crashes from the spells which missed. "HE KILLED YOUR SON!"

Lucius's grey eyes darted between the warring wizards, Voldemort laughed at Harry's attempt to get help, yet he checked behind him with a worried glance. Lucius hadn't moved, nor reacted to Harry's shout, until Voldemort turned his back. He picked up a large pole, one of the melted cell bars, and hit Voldemort across the back of his big bald head.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ Harry cried, the green spell connected and Voldemort's body fell with a thump.

"Merlin!" Lucius exclaimed, still holding the bloodied pole. Harry looked at him and threw the wand back.

"Mr. Potter-"

Harry waved his hand to shut the old man up and swiped the vial of memories off of the cot, he regarded them for a moment.

"You can hide in the Manor, its been empty for fourteen years, I'll make sure those memories get around. Mr. Potter." Lucius offered.

Harry threw the vial to him, which he – thankfully – caught. Harry plucked Voldemort's wand up off the stone floor and blasted the wall of his prison out, he stood in the jagged hole, facing the sea and very clearly said "_Accio Firebolt!"_

Lucius scoffed, but was forced to shut his mouth as ten minutes later the broom sped across the sea and into Harry's hand.

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry said by way of parting, and mounted the broom, disappearing into the night.


	2. II

Harry took Malfoy's advice. What was that Lestrange said in the courtroom? If you can't beat them, join them?

He wasn't going back to the Wizarding World. Ever.

The thirty year old Harry Potter breathed a beautiful lungful of freedom as he flew outside of Azkaban's radius. The air was cool, freezing actually but it was a natural cold. The screaming in his head stopped and Harry turned North-West towards Wiltshire.

The feeling of being on a broom again made Harry whoop in pure joy. He corkscrewed through the air, his dirty hair finally being blown out of his eyes by fresh air as he flew high across the British countryside.

Some time later, Malfoy Manor became visible and Harry began his descent towards the dark house. It stood tall and wide with its impressive and beautiful and overgrown grounds. He touched down on the front step and pushed open the large wooden door, greeted by a stifling cloud of dust in the foyer, with its grand stairs and intricate stone patterns in the floors and walls.

With a flick of Voldemort's wand fires erupted in the two large hearths either side of the main entrance and he went searching for the nearest bathroom.

It was all dark tiles and gold fittings and fourteen years of thick dust, but Harry couldn't express his delight at the flushing toilet or the shower –_the shower. _He stood under the scalding hot, warm, searing stream of water and just enjoyed the feeling of _warm_ for five minutes before he washed his hair with reckless abandon.

The soap smelled of clean and the bubbles felt like clean and Harry simply refused to look at the colour of the rancid water being washed from his body. He took the soap in his hand and scrubbed every single inch of himself twice before shutting the water off and pulling a towel off of the towel rack. He shook the dust off and wrapped himself in it before looking in the mirror.

"Huh, I win Sirius." Harry thought as he looked at his long hair and beard, he had grey hairs at his temples and unfamiliar lines on his young face. He looked an old thirty year old, when he was used to seeing himself at sixteen.

His eyes were the same, his mother's eyes, eyes the same colour as the killing curse.

He pulled a razor from the top drawer and tapped it with Tom's wand, repairing it, then with his clean bar of soap he shaved his face. He would never have a beard again after this, horrible, itchy, smelly thing it was.

His hair was next, getting the royal treatment of a couple of dodgy cutting hexes till it was not so long.

Harry's final mission was food. Which he doubted he would find in the long abandoned manor so he decided on clothes.

The manor was still immeasurably grand, irregaurdles of the dust, the foyer had a kitchen, library, study, lounge, reception room and dining room off of it, the first floor had four guest rooms (each with a small lounge, bedroom and bathroom), the second had a billiard room, tea room and what looked like a pool and the third floor had three bedrooms and two tearooms.

Harry pushed open what he believed was Draco Malfoy's old room and headed straight to the closet where he stole some underwear, socks, pants and a button down shirt – it felt like magic against his skin which was used to shitty prison clothes.

Harry missed socks the most.

He found a robe and threw it on over his shoulders and turned to leave the closet when that unnatural cold surrounded him once again.

Dementors.

Pure panic nearly suffocated him, his chest felt like some kind of molten metal was filling it up and his knees didn't work.

Harry fell to the floor, groping for Tom's wand, eyes wild until an unexpected voice eased his fright.

"Merlin Potter, calm down."

Harry managed a deep breath and looked up to see a silvery, wispy, transparent (none-the-less-bloody) Draco Malfoy casually leaning against the dresser in his bedroom.

"I hear my Father beat the Dark Lord down with a metal pole. Very muggle don't you think?"

Harry looked at the ghost. He was in his school robes, with a large cut across his face, chest and stomach. It was not gory, there were no entrails spilling across the carpet. Like the Bloody Baron's wound, the open bits revealed the dark silvery ghost blood, which did drip from them, seemingly pooling on the floor underneath Draco where he was standing.

"Unpleasant, isn't it," He sneered at his wounds. "I do wish they had just AKed me."

Harry shook his head.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, Malfoy shrugged.

"If I knew that I would have 'moved on to the afterlife' oooooh." The last was said in a poorly done 'ghostly voice' (complete with hand gestures.) "What are _you_ doing here? Last I heard you were all set to die in Azkaban."

"We'll Tom's not the brightest bulb in the shed, is he?" Harry asked duly.

"What's a bulb?"

"Muggle thing."

"Like that pole, did father really beat the Dark Lord with a pole?"

"Yes, Malfoy." Harry told him.

"Could you please be more forthcoming with information, you're the reason I'm here!" The ghost begged. Harry stood and advanced on him.

"I didn't kill you!" Harry screamed, "I was FUCKING innocent!"

"Shit, calm down. I know that don't I?" Malfoy said, stepping back from Harry defensively, you know, just in case Harry killed him more.

"You know?" Harry asked, Malfoy nodded.

"Yes, Mother warned me Lestrange was ordered to kill me dressed as you. Punishment for refusing to Kill Dumbeldore. He died just before your trial from his monky hand anyway."

"Monky hand? It was cursed!" Harry remembered.

"Cursed, monky, I'm dead I can abuse English however I want."

Harry rolled his eyes again.

"So what's happened?" Harry asked, "After I was imprisoned."

"Despite me screaming at everyone when Lestrange killed me that it was Lestrange, not you, and me parading around the Entrance Hall in all my ghostly glory screaming that you didn't kill me you were still thrown in prison. Weasel and Mudblood finised their seventh year and Neville Longbottom _-Neville Longbottom _of all people dropped out to look for Voldemort's Horcruxes."

"He got them?"

"He did." Malofy said. "But lots of people are dead."

"Who?" Harry asked, panicking suddenly.

"Let me finish!" Malfoy scolded, "it was another two years before Mudblood and Weasel started hunting, and it was pretty evenly matched until Voldemort got the Elder wand and went nuts, then the Ministry failed, the Order went into hiding and started stealthily attacking Death Eaters. That was after McGonagall died and Snape took over of course. Er, lets see. I know Crabbe and Goyle are dead, and Snape, all the Huffelpuffs-"

"Stop being ridiculous." Harry told the ghost. "Are the Weasley's alright?"

"I think Weasel senior's dead. The rest made it. You do realize they betrayed you right? I'm your bully and I didn't believe you killed me. I had the best seat in the house to watch _you_ kill me."

"Hasn't caught up with me."

"Fourteen years in Azkaban does tend to make one slow."

"Fourteen years?"

"Yes. There is fourteen years of grey Potter hair on my bathroom floor." Malfoy repiled with, he now appeared to be sitting on the chest of drawers. "I have been dead for fourteen years and you are old."

Harry shook his head.

"No, you're definitely old. If you're not old, I'm not dead."

Harry had to sit down again, he stumbled into the bedroom propper and flopped on Malfoy's dusty bed. Dust puffed up in a cloud making him cough. the noise was deeper and strained and unfamilliar to his own ears.

"-can't believe he whacked old Tom in the back of the head with a pole!" Malfoy was saying as he walked - yes, walked, not floated- out of the closet.

Harry shut his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. It was only 14 years, and the war was over now, he had the rest of his life to get a job and have a family and... Harry never finished school. Ginny was 29, she would have moved on, Ron and Hermione had moved on. He was old news. He was 30 all of a sudden and thoes years spent in Azkaban were gone. His youth, whatever was left of his tattered childhood _Potter_ was gone. _Potter._ Harry had been betrayed P_otter_ by his friends, by the world he has to, he did protect. He was never visited, never got the chance to speak for himself.

Polyjuice only lasts an hour, which means _Potter _the judgement on his life wasn't worth an hour of anyone's time. "Merlin Potter!"

Harry's eyes snapped open at Draco's shout to see the room he was in being blown apart. A vicious hot wind was blowing every which way, deep gold slashes in the air were scorching anything they touched. Malfoy was right in front of him trying to reach out but he obviously couldn't.

"Fourteen years." was all Harry said and the golden hot wind suddenly dropped.

Draco meerly shrugged.

"You think you're angry."


	3. III

Harry had calmed down that night by simply going to bed. Draco lounged on the king sized bed next to him as he slept, and the next morning Harry ventured out into the nearby town for supplies, Draco kindly uncovered his parent's hidden muggle money stash for groceries.

"Don't put food there!" The ghost tried in vain to hit Harry, who picked the plastic bag up off of the counter. "It's dusty."

"Its in a bag, in packets!" Harry told him, then he frowned, pointedly putting the bag back on the bench. "You're not eating it, and the dust alone would be better that Azkaban food."

"Yes well," Draco frowned at the bag on the dusty bench. "As you're no longer a criminal, you should be a civallised human being and not live in this horrid dust palace."

"Did you just tell me to leave?"

"No clean!" Draco exclaimed, "Stupid human."

Harry frowned at him.

"I'm a ghost." Draco said, once again using meaningless hand gestures to demonstrate his 'ghostness'.

Harry rolled his eyes, drawing Voldemort's wand from his sleeve and silently ridding the kitchen of dust. Once it was shiny clean, he spread his food supplies on the bench and happily picked out chocolate biscuts, an apple and a can of carbonated drink.

"Your first meal and you have chocolate and soda?" Malfoy asked sardonically. Harry smiled at him.

"We got glop and stale water in prison." Harry explained.

"Glop?" Malfoy asked.

"Glop." Harry confirmed, walking to the breakfast table with his stash. "I think it was mashed potato and carboard." He elaborated. "And water." Harry kicked the chair out and flopped into it.

"Yuck," Was Malfoy's reply. "I'm dead and it makes me want to die, thinking about eating that."

Harry nodded the affirmative before happily cruching his biscuits and moaning indeecently.

"Should I leave you kids alone?" Malfoy asked.

Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"Its crunchy. I love crunchy."

"My names Harry Potter, I love socks and my favourite food is crunchy." Malfoy mocked, using his fingers as pretend glasses.

"How do you know I like socks?" Harry asked, still cradling his biscuits to his chest.

"You put my socks on after your shower and announced it really, really loudly." Malfoy told him, "Thats how I knew you were in the Manor."

Harry didn't remember that.

"Azkaban makes you like weird things." He said, shrugging off his newfound love of crunchy and socks as normal post-prison behavior.

"Aunt Bellatrix certainly liked weird things." Malfoy agreed. "Torture, carpet, straws, Voldemort."

Harry snorted, causing his soda to come out his nose, which thourougly entertained Malfoy. "Bellatrix liked straws!" He repeated weakly, laughing.

"So when are you going to face the world again Potter?" Malfoy asked, Harry laughed, his mouth full of chewed biscuit.

"Never?" He asked, but was implying the answer was obvious. "They shut me in azkaban for ten years."

"Fourteen," Malfoy corrected. Melrin, we went over this yesterday.

"Oh," Harry said, his mouth still full of biscuit. "Sorry."

"So you should be." Malfoy humpffed. "Anyway, Potter, you can't seriously think they won't come looking for you? And you are free, go and have a nice life." Harry lowered his soda can and gave Malfoy a funny look.

"I don't particularly want a life anymore, I'm happy just,"

"Floating in limbo?" Malfoy supplied, unfortunatley, Harry missed the sarcasm and nodded.

"Exactly."

"Literally," Malfoy spat, Harry realized his mistake.

"Malfoy I didn't mean it like that - hey!"

Malfoy ran from the room, despite not actually touching the ground, and Harry followed, of course he was stopped by solid things. Like walls.

"Malfoy!" Harry called, "MALFOY!" Harry frowned, "Fuck me," He cussed, heading back to the kitchen. "People are too hard," Harry said to himself. "Even dead ones, always want something, never want anything but something for themselves."

Harry flopped back in his chair, losing his appetite for the cruncy busciuts and fizzy soda. though he smiled wide remembering the sensations they gave his mouth. Not sloppy, burnt and cardboard, but sharp and sweet and crisp.

Despite his freedom induced high and his happiness with things that were not Azkaban, such as the tiled floor, which was cold without being icy or wet, and the chair, which was made of wood- in a way he could pick it up and move it around, and even break if if he desired - but he didn't, what was that Malfoy said about being civilliased. Regardless, despite his fascination with mundane things Harry did find himself quite bored and with no desire to speak to anyone and no desire to look for Malfoy, he decided that maybe he could clean his dust palace.

He began with the dining room, which was just a matter of vanishing the dust, as was with most of the rooms, though the large sitting room proved to hold interesting family photographs and little trinkets and personal items, which Harry thouroughy investigated. The most unnerving room was Draco's parents room, which Harry found a rather large stash of attractive sorts of underwear for a lady, and a box of muggle condoms.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked him, making Harry jump.

"Snooping," Harry said, "You were off mourning yourself."

"Mourning myself?" Draco asked with an indignat tone.

"Yes," Harry said, "Mourning yourself, it's like ghost version of masturbation-thats something I havent done in a while!"

"Potter!" Draco cried, disgusted. Harry was unnapologetic in his admission and grinned at Draco, who glared back. "I do not masturbate over my death." Draco said. Harry laughed at him.

"I never said you did," Harry said, "It was a joke, Malfoy, lighten up."

"Lighten up?" Malfoy asked him. "Lighten up? I'm DEAD, Potter!"

Harry shook his head. Leaving the room and heading to Draco's room, where he flopped on the bed.

"Why are all ghosts so morbid," Harry said, "You're dead, mias well enjoy the ability to haunt people."

Draco shook his head. "You're an idiot," Draco said, "Ghosts are ghosts becasue they're not willing to accept their own death, Potter, how can I joke about it if I can't accept it?"

"So the minute you make a wise crack about your..." Hary paused and wiggled all ten fingers at Draco in an odd way, deciding on a word to use, "deadness," he chose, "You see the great white light and move on?"

Draco shook his head.

"Its never happened." Draco said, "No ghost has ever moved on."

Harry stuck his tongue out. "I'd rather just die."

"It's not a choice!"

"Maybe it's becasue you're so great at holding grudges?" Harry wondered. Draco glared.

"You're not listening," Malfoy accused, Harry shook his head.

"Sure I am," He admitted, "You're being all indignant about me implying you like being a ghost."

Malfoy pulled a face.

"While we're on the topic of grudge holding," Malfoy said, "What about you and your self imposed limbo?"

"What about it? I think it's completely reasonable."

Malfoy shook his head sadly.

"Fine," He conceeded, beginning to float out of the room, "But you're such an idiot, Potter."


	4. IV

_Knock, knock._

It took Harry an awfully long time to figure out what the noise was, Malfoy was no-where to be seen and he was a little bit thankful for that, the ghost was unrelenting when an opportunity for him to mock Harry appeared.

Harry trudged down the stairs to the front door, where the knock sounded again, and he wearily cracked the door open.

"Harry."

He knew these people, he knew he did.

Ron Weasley had gotten much more round with age, and Hermione had barely changed. Her hair was perhaps less wild and her dress was more refined, but Harry knew these people, and he wanted to greet them with a kind smile, but he couldn't. He shut the door in their face.

"Harry wait," it was Hermione who stopped him. He didn't miss the wedding ring on her left hand when she put it against the big door.

"For what, exactly?" Harry asked, he stared between the two of them with a sneer on his face.

"Harry, we're sorry-"

"Yeah," Harry inturrupted her once more, "Me too."

"Listen mate," Ron started, he gently held Hermione's hand as he spoke. Harry shook his head. "Harry," Ron pushed, "What were we supposed to do?"

"Look for me." Harry said quietly. "All summer Voldemort had me, the Dursley's are dead, and the first thing I see that's not Lestrange or Voldemort is a memeory where everyone I care about tell me to my face I'm a murderer and a traitor." Harry shook his head. "I was missing for three months. No one noticed?"

Hermione looked shocked.

"They said you were taken off of the train," Ron told him, "They said-"

"They said this after they said I killed 24 people and joined Voldemort."

"Harry, I don't know what to say," Hermione pushed the door open a little further. "We've missed you."

"Yes," Harry looked at their joined hands, "I see you have." Then he shook his head.

"I don't begrudge you your marriage, or, even moving on with your life." Harry's breath hitched, and he was thankful when the familiar unnatural chill of Draco brushed against his hand, even though Draco himself was not visible. "But no one questioned why I would change, why I would kill Draco, I may not have liked him, but I would never wish him dead. I would never kill him. I'm done with being a poster boy, and I'm done with the fancy pedestal you've all put me on, and I'm done with that pedestal always crumbling. Don't come to see me again."

Harry didn't wait for their response, but he snapped the door shut in their faces.

"You have to go back," Draco told him once the door was shut, "Maybe not to the same friends, but you have to go back, find love, have friends, live."

"I know what you're getting at, Malfoy," Harry said, not unkindly. "But I never want to go back. I'm happy drifting around the Manor with you."

"Trying to be funny now, scar-head."Draco snapped, Harry was aware he stepped a line.

"Still a bit sensitive about the whole drifting thing." Harry commented to the empty foyer.

_Knock. Knock._

Harry glared at the door and yanked it open, ready to yell and Ron and Hermione, but lost his steam when Luna was there.

"Luna." Harry said, a little shocked, Luna smiled and let herself into the house.

"It's funny you lock yourself up here after being locked up."

Harry smiled at the irony and followed the blonde girl to the sitting room. She waved her wand and a fire sprang up in the grate.

"You look well, Harry, much saner than I thought you would look."

"Er. Thank you Luna," Harry said, sitting in an armchair and smiling at the girl.

"You haven't changed much," He told her, becasue it was true, her orb like eyes fixed on him.

"Really?" She asked in a plesant tone, "I suppose not. I'll not lie, Ron and Hermione sent me."

"Why did they send you?" Harry asked.

"Well Neville sent me, really, becasue Ginny didn't want to come, when Ron and Hermione asked her too, but don't worry Harry, I'm not here to tell you what to do. Just thought you might need a friend." Harry smiled at her. "You told me we were friends, once." She said.

"I have had a friend," Harry said, as Draco wandered into the sitting room with a shy wave.

"Draco Malfoy," Luna said, "You look well."

Harry looked between Luna who seemed unphased and Draco who was looking at himself (probably wondering if the blonde girl in front of him actually saw that he was dead) and Harry all of a sudden didn't feel as flattered by her telling _him_ he looked well.

"So you want me to leave?" Luna asked him, Harry shook his head.

"No, Luna," Harry wrung his hands, it has been so long since he had to talk to someone, (and worry about how they reacted).

"I'll make some lunch," Luna said, happily jumping up and walking _through_ Draco and out the door into the foyer.

"I'm about eight million percent certain its _rude_ to walk_ through_ a ghost," Draco told him,Harry cracked a smile.

"Thats Luna for you," Harry told him with a wide smile, following the woman into the kitchen.

"Hello Harry," Luna said pleasantly, "Draco," She greeted the ghost, who Harry assumed was either invisible or lurking about, becasue Harry couldn't see him.

"What happened in the war?" Harry asked tentatively.

"You mean what did you miss?" Luna asked him. Harry nodded.

"Well," She was stirring a large pot of something on the stove, the pot bubbling over but it didnt seem to bother her. "After you were arrested, Hogwarts fell, and then Dumbeldore was killed, and the ministry fell, the Aurours were publically executed and the Order was left in hiding at Grimmauld Place." She summarised. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Then the new regimine settled, muggleborns were forced to flee the country and Death Eaters were launching full scale attacks on muggles, which the Order were covering up. soon people started praying for a saviour."

"Voldemort said they believed I was innocent."

"That was me," Luna said, "I, you never got a fair trial," She told him, "The only time you got a trial it was less than an hour long, its law that all trials must go for the full hour to prove the polyjuice potion wasn't used. Daddy published it," Luna said, "and the Death Eaters took me and put me in Azkaban until he started writing Voldemort Friendly things."

"You were in Azkaban?" Harry asked her, Luna nodded, pourting a can of corn into the pot.

"Only for a couple years." She said, "Then you killed Tom and I was let out. I looked for you, but I was on the bottom floor, I thought they would put _you_ near the top."

"I, Luna, I'm sorry," Harry said, she stopped her idle stirring and looked at him.

"You couldn't have done anything," She said, "you were locked up too." Harry swore he heard Draco giggling. Luna shrugged, "I've been getting my life back together, I had to organise a propper funeral for Daddy - he was killed."

"Oh," Harry paused, "I'm sorry."

Luna just shrugged again, "And lots of people have been getting married since the war ended," She told him, "Maybe becasue now they know they're not going to have a wedding and their husband will die straight away."

Harry could deffinately hear people laughing.

"Like Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked, Luna shook her head.

"Oh no, they got married five years ago," She told him, "But Neville and Ginny were married last Sunday, it was a very boring service, and I had to go to daddy's funeral afterwards which was a bit, somber. Would you like toast?"

Harry nodded and Luna set a pot of purple soup in front of him, he looked at it with a worried look. He could see Draco laughing at him from behind Luna, who looked at him expectantly. "Well?" She said with a smile. Harry gingerly lifted the spoon to his lips and breathed a sigh of relief. It was delicious.

"You're not coming back are you?" Luna said, sitting down with her own soup and swatting away something that wasn't there. Harry shook his head.

"I have everything I need right here," he told her.

"He's stupid," Draco corrected.

"He scared," Luna said, "to see what he missed. Teddy's almost thirteen."

"Who's Teddy?" Harry asked, Luna smiled. "Remus' son. He's living with Andromeda."

"He's, Remus is dead, then?" Harry pushed his soup away.

"Would you like to visit them?" Luna asked. "I could take you, if you'd like?"

Harry scrunched his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Not sure if she was talking about Teddy Lupin or the graves of the people who had died.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not going back Luna, I want to stay here."

"Suit yourself." She said, Draco however stepped forwards.

"You're an idiot," he spat at Harry, and Harry got the impression he would have been hit if Draco could have hit him.

"Piss off," Harry told the ghost, Luna gave him a look as Draco left. "What?"

"He _didn't_ get a second chance."


	5. V

Draco didn't hold his grudge for very long, only a couple days, days that Harry spent treating the manor to some cleaning charms he found in a book in the library. Said book was now open on the kitchen counter top the Elder Wand aimed at the stove.

"I don't understand." Draco said. Harry looked up from his cooking and stared at him blankly.

"Understand what?"

"Why you're locking yourself away."

Harry shrugged. "I have no reason to go back," he said, "everyone I knew let me be kidnapped, they let me be locked away."

"It wasn't like that. Voldemort engineered a lot of public hatred and they saw you-"

Malfoy, I was taken at the beginning off summer, and you were killed at the end of September. That's four months and they didn't realize anything was wrong."

Draco didn't have a reply for him.

"I'm not going back, too much has changed."

"Don't go back, then." Draco said, "just don't waste your life here. Find new friends, find someone to marry, have a family, get a job, travel."

"I don't want to," Harry said stubbornly. "I've missed too much, I'm ok just staying here."

"Think about it." Draco said. "You can't stay here forever, you won't want to."

Harry ignored him.

* * *

The most annoying thing, perhaps, about Malfoy manor is that it was designed tho have servants running the house. The front door had no peep hole, because, as Draco so kindly pointed out, he should have a servant go to the door and turn away any undesirables.

"Just don't answer it," Draco said, Harry agreed, the thought that it was Ron or Hermione, or god forbid, Molly, was terrifying, but;

"It might be Luna."

Draco rolled his eyes, and stuck his head through the door. When Harry could see his face again, he looked rather distressed.

"Who is it?" He asked, Draco shook his head and dissapeared, Harry yanked the door open.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry toolk a step back, and Narcissa Malfoy let herself in.

"This is my sister," she said, Harry looked at the woman behind her, who was tall and slim, around sixty years old with wild black hair. Harry reached for Voldemort's wand. "Andromeda Tonks." Narcissa finished. Harry relaxed.

"I do look like Bella," Andromeda said with a sad smile, "she's dead, though. Died a long time ago now."

Harry relaxed, even more. "Harry this is Teddy Lupin, he wanted to meet you."

Harry froze up, Teddy Lupin stepped forward, he had a thin, pointed face that reminded him a lot of Sirius, his hair was thin and light brown, exactly like Remus he was tall and thin and his smile reminded Harry so much of Remus it made his heart ache.

"I,"Harry began, Narcissa pushed him back into the house and held the door for her sister and nephew.

"I came to see Draco," Narcissa said, "I'm guessing he doesn't want to talk to me."

Harry focused on her, "I'll talk to him," he said, "just, sit, um..." Harry blushed, indicating needlessly to the sitting room. Narcissa humoured him and led Andromeda and Teddy into the sitting room.

Harry ran up the stairs to Draco's room, where he was moping about in his closet.

"She came to see you," Harry started, Draco silenced him with a glare.

"I don't want to talk to her," Draco said, Harry gave him a look.

"You can still live." Harry said quietly, "you're still here."

Draco stayed silent, and Harry didn't look at him, he was eight billion percent certain its rude to tell a ghost they can still live.

"I'd like to believe that, Harry," Draco whispered, "but there's nothing left for me here, and the sooner I accept that, the sooner I can move on."

"Maybe talking to her will give you a bit of closure."

Draco shrugged. "I'll talk to my mother if you talk to teddy Lupin."

"He's just a kid, and I'm Azkaban's special brand of crazy. I can't talk to him."

"Did you see the near manic smile on that kid's face when he saw you Potter? I doubt you would break him anymore."

"Don't say things like that."

"Things like baby Lupin is raving mad?"

Harry glared and stood, marching out of the closet and back downstairs.

Narcissa looked at him expectantly, but he was saved the embarrassment of admitting he was in the middle of a tantrum by Draco appearing at his shoulder.

"The third floor tearoom, perhaps mother?" Draco asked, though it sounded more like a demand, Narcissa teared up looking at the ghost of her only son and nodded, hurrying from the room.

Harry looked at Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin.

"Your hair-" Harry paused as the previously brown hair that was now green went orange then brown again.

"I'm a metamorphagus, like my mum." Teddy explained, Harry nodded.

"I'm Nymphadora's mother," Andromeda tried again, "and my Dora married Remus, and they had little Teddy here."

Harry just nodded again, not knowing what to say, if he was even supposed to say anything. Andromeda looked mildly annoyed, and Harry felt pressured to comment, but Teddy saved him.

"Show me around this place, uncle Harry? I'm sure Nan won't mind getting herself some tea?"

Harry nodded again, and Teddy stood, glancing at Andromeda who sighed and stood too. Mrs Tonks left first, leaving Harry alone with Teddy.

"It must be wicked living here," Teddy said, gently grabbing Harry's hand and dragging him away. "What's Mr. Malfoy like?"

Harry gulped. "you mean Draco?"

"Yeah, after he started haunting this place, he drove Voldemort and the Death Eaters right out of here, kept eavesdropping and giving the information to the Order of the Phoenix."

"He's a bit of a git, really."

Teddy laughed, "Mrs Weasley told me you didn't get along with him at school."

"Do you go to school?" Harry asked the boy, he nodded.

"Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart," he said, "like my dad, and you. People at school talk about you all the time, how you saved us. A lot of them claim they always knew you were innocent, but I don't think is true. Not many people thought so until the prophet report came out, even then they were skeptical, but the war ended once Voldemort was killed, I guess people thought you would rise up in his place. The war ended a long time ago really, I mean, it was all political after the last attack happened, that was something like eight years ago, and I don't remember much, but we've sort of been underground - the Order, that is, ever since.

"How did your parents die?" Harry asked, he didn't want to hear anymore, but when Teddy was talking he didn't have to, and that was okay with him.

"It happened in 2003, the order was raided by Death Eaters, lots of people were killed, death eaters too, not just our side."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, not knowing what else to say.

"You knew them didn't you? Wotcher Harry."

Harry nodded, "not very well," he admitted, "Remus used to teach me at Hogwarts."

* * *

"Yes Draco it's a very sad story, but I'm not here to talk about Mr. Potter."

"Well I don't really have much else to talk about."

"You're moping," Narcissa accused, Draco stood, floating just above the ground.

"I'm dead!"

"but you're still here," Narcissa stood to face him, she gestured to him. "I can see you, Draco, I can talk to you-"

"But that's where it ends, mother I am not alive. I'm not really here."

She reached out to touch him, and her hand passed through his cheek. She snapped it back, and he shut his eyes, stepping back out of habit, even though he moved back as he thought about it.

"I'm dead," He said again, not looking at her. "If you want to visit, next time, visit my grave. Leave flowers or something."

Like always happened when he was upset he apparated to his bedroom - it wasn't really apparition of course, he just thought about being somewhere else and he was there, mostly because he wasn't in the material plane, and physics didn't apply, the other part was he was dead, and could do whatever the hell he wanted.

The large gash across his neck itched, but he dare not touch it - he had no way to was his own blood off of his hands. What he could do was blow out candles, and slam doors, so he marched to his bedroom door and slammed it with a wave of his hand.

The door opened and Harry came in.

"I thought you were talking to Teddy?" Draco asked. Harry shrugged.

"I don't think the great Harry potter was up to his expectations," Harry said, sounding a little disappointed, "and Narcissa left in tears."

"She still can't accept that I'm dead." Draco shrugged, "she's probably the reason I'm stuck here."

Harry didn't answer, but that was ok, Draco knew he was pants at advice, unless it was Azkaban decor or jail cell thickness or something. So Harry surprised Draco with his belated answer.

"I think it'd be more internal and profound than that. Obviously it's tied to the manor, because you weren't killed here, I don't think it's actually dying that's holding you back."

"Yes, the death helped greatly in getting-"

"Not literally, I don't believe your still cut about your death."

"So you think it's my hopes and dreams keeping me here?"

"Yeah," Harry said sadly.

"That's the softest thing I've ever heard." Draco told him bluntly.

Harry gave him a look.

"Fine," he said, standing up form his seat on the bed. "I'll leave you to mope."

Draco sneered as the other man left his bedroom, and Draco himself went to the still dusty cellar and laid down on the floor, making dust puff up in irregular shapes.

just after he died, he used to reflexively cough when the dust came in front of his face, of course he didn't anymore, compared to forever, fourteen years is a short time to be dead for, and he still did things that alive people did, like yawn and sigh, and step and itch and feel hungry or tired or thirsty.

He first haunted Hogwarts, flying around the entrance hall screaming 'Potter didn't kill me'. Eventually he was impacting badly on young people's learning and peeves helped him near constantly kick up a fuss, then he got frustrated and began calling the students increasingly creative _inappropriate_ names and was exorcised from the building (which hurt like a bitch), anyway before that The Fat Friar told him all his human habits would go away over a long time, most ghosts still sighed, though Nick tended to roll his eyes because he didn't like the air moving around in his neck, and the Friar still tripped over things, and he'd been dead for centuries.

Draco stood, meaning to push himself up but finding no purchase. He grumbled angrily and wanted to hit something, more than anything, but knew he couldn't. Instead he floated through the floor into the library and then the kitchen.

"Harry?" He said miserably, receiving no answer. He went to the lounge, and back up to his room.

"HARRY?" Draco yelled. He wanted to run, to find his unlikely friend, to hit something, or throw something or to feel, but he couldn't, he could only look around the home which wasn't real to him, and his eyes watered.

_Malfoys don't cry, Malfoys don't cry, Malfoys don't cry_.

Yes they do.

Draco wiped his tears angrily, running to his room. He ran through the closed door and into the closet, sitting on his drawers next to the mirror, the mirror he couldn't see any reflection in.

He stayed there for a lifetime, eventually the tears stopped and he was just sitting, not breathing because he didn't need to and didn't want to.

"MALFOY, YOU STILL MOPING?"

His head shot up, it was still light out.

"LUNA'S HERE!" Harry yelled, Draco smiled wide, bounding down the stairs.

"I'm done moping, Potter," he said, "where the hell did you go?"

"To my house," Luna supplied, "then we went to see Fred and George in their joke shop and Harry even agreed to walking around Diagon Alley as long as he was disguised. I made him dinner, I don't think he liked it because he was wrapping it in bits of his napkin and stuffing it in his pockets."

"Dinner?" Draco asked, "it's early morning?"

Harry stopped looking guiltily embarrassed at Luna's previous comment to give him a look.

"I was with Luna for four days, then I came back here yesterday and you were still moping so I left again."

"Time doesn't apply to dead people," Luna said, "he probably didn't even realize it was passing."

"I thought I'd been away for a few hours." Draco said honestly.

"It doesn't matter," Luna said, "as long as your feeling better."

Draco looked between her light blue, orb like eyes and Harry's sparkling emerald ones. Then he looked at their joined hands.

Without comment he smiled at them and took a deep breath, forcing himself to not get hung up on the whole 'alive person habit' again he led the way to the sitting room to talk to his friends.


	6. VI

_**Twelve Months Later**_

"You're bouncing, why are you bouncing?"

"Luna got a promotion at work to feild researcher," Harry told him happily. Luna was a Wizarding naturalist, and at thmonment was in a lab figuring out the application of various animal parts in potion brewing. Draco knew she wasn't overly keen on experimentation, considering what happened to her mother, and had always wanted to be able to go out in the field and search for the silly little make believe -

"Stop it, I know what you're thinking Malfoy," Harry snapped, Draco gave him a look of pure innocence.

"She might be right, she's excellent at her job, for Christ sake shes found 7 more uses for Dragon Blood and has integrated muggle organic chemistry into potion brewing. She's had articles published in half the best journals."

"Are you going with her?" Draco asked off handed. Harry looked shocked.

"Where is she going?"

Draco rolled his eyes, and was temped to leave the silly Gryffindor in suspense. But decided to humor the imbecile.

"The field." He said, sarcastically.

"I hadn't thought of that," Harry said, "I was going to ask her to marry me."

"What's stopping you? Go with her. She could probably use some muscle on her travel."

"I just -"

And don't you dare give me shit about prison, you still moan indecently when you put socks on but you've reconnected with the Weasels and everything."

"Beginning to, and it was only Fred and George. The nightmares haven't gone away." Harry admitted.

"I know, they're better when Luna's here though." Draco reminded him, he took a deep, unneeded breath. "Go, Harry, getting out of here for a while will only help."

Harry looked unsure, and it frustrated the ghost beyond measure. He wished he could push him, alas, all he had were his words, and his good looks.

"What's stopping you?"

"You'd he here by yourself," Harry admitted, and Draco had the grace to feel touched, however Harry Potter was still alive, and he needed to go and live.

"I'm not going anywhere, Potter you could be gone a hundred years and I wouldn't notice."

Harry nodded, obviously deep in thought, he tapped his hand on the sideboard in the hall they were standing -floating- in and made a little noise. Draco let his fingers touch the wall. He didn't really touch it, just put his hand near where he could see the wall. He wished he could tap things.

"I suppose, she's starting in two weeks, if we, if I ask her, she might be able to delay- unless we wait until she has holidays or something."

Draco rolled his eyes, jealousy making him sick to his stomach, and he didn't want to talk about this anymore; so he disappeared, leaving Potter to his confusing life thoughts.

Draco had nothing to worry about, unless of course the old muggle woman's dog down the road dies and comes back to bite him in the ass.

Unlikely.

* * *

Harry left that night and Draco didn't expect to see him for a long time, not if he was going on a hunt for imaginary animals with loony Luna Lovegood.

This put Draco in a shitty mood, and he was moping again.

The problem with being dead is you have an uncomfortable amount of time to rehash your life, and, ultimately Draco didn't like what he remembered. He was embarrassing, an embarrassing little twat of a kid.

This too put him in a shitty mood.

Playing with the cellar dust made him even angrier and slamming all the doors in the manor was tiring - emotionally, the dead can't be physically exhausted; they're at rest. Potter was good, he could be as much of a dick to Potter as he liked, and Potter was a dick right back, and he could mope and feel sorry for himself, and Potter would say some painfully sarcastic dead person comment and make Draco smile. Despite his rather dour outlook on life, he liked to smile.

He often wondered if it was worth it. If he had just realised earlier his father was a ridiculous human being he would never have been in this mess. He was ordered to death by the Dark Lord because Lucius couldn't go pick up a little god damn ball.

It wasn't fair. He was a mean child, but he didn't deserve to die because of it; all children were mean.

He resisted the urge to sigh. Harry was probably prancing about foreign and magical landscapes with his beautiful fiance at his side, and, to his surprise, Draco smiled at the thought. Somehow Harry had become his best friend, and for someone with nothing but a big dusty house, Harry had become his whole life.

Draco was beaming at the conclusion of this thought, and he jumped up excitedly when there was a loud knock at the front door.

"Luna?" He said when he looked through the door she smiled at him.

"Hello Draco," she smiled, pushing open the door and carrying her bags through. "We're back."

Harry walked up the path behind her levitating his own bags and he smiled brilliantly at Draco.

"She said yes," Harry said with a brilliant smile, and we spent the past seven months adventuring as fiancees."

"Seven months, fuck I thought it was a week and a half."

Harry shook his head, dumping his stuff in the foyer and waving his hand to light the fires. "You're so broody. Look Draco, I wanted to ask you something."

Harry turned to face him with a very serious expression and Draco looked at him interested.

"Will you be my best man at the wedding?"

"No," Draco said shocked, "no, NO!" Draco screamed in the other man's face. Tears prickled his eyes and he stepped back, a wedding was a happy thing, Harry had to live, not stay here, attached to a ghost. He was bad for Harry, no one should spend all their time around a dead prat like him.

And Draco left.


	7. VII

Luna wrote letters telling him about their lives. The first was that Harry had been inspired by their adventures and had begun working at the Weasley twins' joke shop. She wasn't happy about the spell experimenting he was doing, but he promised to be careful. That letter was brought by a white owl that looked at him with sharp white eyes, it had laid the letter on his bed, neatly in the corner so he could read it.

The next letter was laid neatly next to the first, a picture of their wedding next to that.

It was a magnificent picture for a magnificent pair. Luna was beautiful, her white hair and white dress a shocking contrast to Harry's dark hair and black suit. A bunch of blue roses held between them, and they both looked at him, smiling giddy smiles against a background of greenery.

She described the wedding for him, and told him they were taking a vacation for a honeymoon in the Spring.

After that the letters stopped. But Draco loved that picture of them, it was so alive. A wedding. So happy.

He was right, he would have ruined it with his deadness.

As you can imagine he spent most of his time moping, he found a new thing to do now, which was a circuit throught the house; just looking at all the things he used to be able to touch and feel. Sometimes something would catch his eye and he would spend hours and hours looking at it, remembering the role it had played in his life all thoes years ago, like the carpet in his mother's old tearoom, or the embroidery on the chairs in the formal dining room, or the grate in front of the fire he had burnt himself on when he was four in his father's study.

He still had the scar, on his hand between his thumb and forefinger.

He thought about why he couldn't just die and be gone. It had to be better than this loneliness. He missed being alive, but only because he was surrounded by his life, his past. The life he had long ago.

It could have been years for all he knew. He had no way to mark time passing bar counting the sunrise, and he lost count, or didn't notice the rise and fall of the sun.

And counting the days made them seem so much longer.

He thought about Harry the most. The stories he had heard aboth the other boy when he was a child, the things he knew were true. The things he knew because Harry was his best friend.

Only friend.

Draco didn't begrudge Harry his life, he had wanted this, he had driven the man away from this dead place.

To tell the truth, Draco wanted the life he had. He wanted to live at the manor and be friends with Harry and Luna, he wanted to be the best man at their wedding, and be named godfather of their children. He knew it would never happen. He and Harry probably would have never been friends had he not been killed, had Harry never ended up in Azkaban.

He would have married a pureblood who was pretty and fertile and he would have grown old here, but he would have had his own child. a little boy -like all Malfoys had- and he would have made that kid love him, and he would have been a warm and caring farther. He would never tell his son Malfoys couldn't cry.

But he never got the chance to prove he was not his father, or his grandfather before him. Maybe he would have never changed, if he had never died.

In truth, Draco Malfoy was terrified, becasue he felt he needed to stay at the manor, he needed to stay here. He was the last Malfoy.

The thought made him hideously uncomfortable and very sad. He would't ever grow up and have children, he was dead, and he was the last Malfoy.

He would haunt the Manor forever, becasue one day, Harry would grow old and die and Harry's children would grow old and die and Draco Malfoy would be completely forgotton.

It was with these same morbid thoughts that Draco continued his aimless floating around his ancestral home. He was surrounded by material trinkents, portraits, nick nacks, all grand shows of wealth, and he was barely aware they existed. They did not exist for him, like he did not exist for them. They were useless now.

He was useless now. Nothing to do but to be dead.

It was a difficult thing, steeling yourself for a future of bleak and boring brooding and loneliness. Draco didn't want to face that, he would rather be dead and gone - oblivious to his own end, than this hyperawareness he had ended up living. But this was Draco's lot in life. If haunting an empty manor, an empty manor which would stay empty forever, was his curse. He would wear it, and he would wear it with the dignity and aloofness befitting the ghost of a Malfoy. The ghost of all Malfoys. He was the very end of a proud family and he swore he would carry on that pride.

Draco forced himself not to sigh. He didn't need to. He did straighten up his spine, and held up his chin, and he moved deeper into the house, humming a lullaby his mother used to hum him to keep himself entertained while he carried out his new and boring purpose.


	8. VIII

"I don't think this door has been opened since you left, Harry."

Harry helped the old woman up the stairs. She was only sixty five but she was very ill; in fact he only brought her here because she said it was her final wish.

The door was heavy and didn't open easily. Dust covered the foyer and the manor reminded him of when he first saw it, after Azkaban. He pushed unpleasant memories to the very back of his mind and used his wand to syphon away the dust.

"You're back."

Harry looked at the ghost of Draco Malfoy, he was exactly the same, floating at the top of the stairs to the first floor. Harry turned and helped Narcissa into the house, waving his hand again to light the fires.

"What's wrong with her?" Draco asked, he glided down the stairs and made to reach for his mother's hand, but pulled his own away Before he even got close.

"I'm quite unwel." Narcissa told him, "I wanted to see you, one last time."

"You're dying?" Draco asked, he stepped back with an unreadable expression.

"Quite ill." Narcissa replied. "Quite ill." she looked around her old house. "I must admit I've missed this old place. I miss the old days." She smiled at Draco, Harry looked around the foyer, noticing for the first time the roof was painted to look like you were looking into a clear, deep lake. "Right before you went to Hogwarts, dear."

She reached out again, and her hand touched Draco's cheek, Draco reached up to grab his mother's hand.

"I love you mum," he said and she fell.

Draco tried to stop her fall, but couldn't, his arms were there but she fell through them. Harry caught her right before she hit the ground.

"Narcissa?" He asked kneeling on the floor, Draco hovered above her worredly.

"I-" Narcissa began but started coughing. "I love you Draco." She managed before her eyes fluttered closed. Harry lifted her up.

"Is she-" Draco reached out to touch her again, but his hand passed through. "She touched me, I felt her hand-" he said touching his own cheek. Silver tears welled up in his eyes.

"She's still alive, but only just" Harry said shifting Narcissa's weight. "Where's the nearest apparation point, I'm taking her to Mungo's."

"Wards are down," Draco said, and Harry dissapeared with a crack.

Mungo's was busy, as usual, but he was Harry Freakin' Potter and a healer came to him straight away.

"Mr. Potter," he said, as Harry saw Draco appear a few feet away.

"She collapsed," he said as a healer conjured a stretcher and Harry laid Narcissa down. The healer called for help and a nurse took Narcissa behind the reception desk and deeper into the hospital.

"You'll need to wait out here, Mr. Potter, sorry."

Harry nodded and Draco joined him, gaining alot of odd looks from other patients and families.

"Could you spare a private room?" Harry asked the welcome witch, she sighed and called over a young woman, who led them away from the public waiting room. "I'm about eight million percent sure hospitals are not appropriate places to bring yocopper ghost." He muttered, Draco cracked a slight smile.

"So Potter, what did I miss?" Draco asked nervously glancing into the top corner of the room.

"Not much, Luna's going great, I've been working at the joke shop for years now. The kids are going good, start Hogwarts soon."

"I thought it was four and a half months."

Harry snorted. "Not even a little close," he said, "ten years since I was last at the manor."

"You didn't visit in _ten years_?"

Harry shook his head. "I was busy." Harry shrugged, "and I got the distinct impression you wanted nothing to do with me."

Draco floated there, making no move to pretend to sit next to him. "What with _your_ dead personality?" Draco asked with an eye roll, Harry chuckled.

"I'd love the life I had," Draco said, "to be your friend, and to be your best man. If I were alive, I'd be more content than I had ever been. Of course, if I were alive it wouldn't have all happened how it did."

Harry nodded, "I missed you," Harry said, "bit I just didn't know if you wanted to see me or Luna or anything, I'm sorry," he finished lamely.

"Me too," Draco said with a smile. He looked up. "She's gone." He said with an oddly peaceful expression.

Harry looked at Draco and hung his head.

"I would have been surprised had she lasted another night." He said, "she was only released from hospital because she agreed to full time at home care."

"You shouldn't have taken her to the manor." Draco scolded.

"It was worth it," Harry said, "she wanted to go so badly, and the look on her face when she touched your cheek was worth it."

"Even if ihe cost her her life?"

Harry shook his head, "She had Fast Degenerative Dementitis, she was cold and tired and in alot of pain. She wasn't happy, hasn't been for weeks, until she saw you again, Draco."

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.

"I'm going home," he said thickly.

"Wait," Harry turned to him, "I was hoping, if you want us, we can move back into the manor?"

Draco smiled through his falling tears.

"I'm the last Malfoy," he said sadly, "there's no one else to keep the Manor. It's your's, if you want it."

Draco dissapeared, and as soon as he was gone Harry flopped back onto the seat in the waiting room and put his head in his hands. He didn't cry, he was relieved in a way, Narcissa was gone, resting, no longer in the chilling pain she had been in for nearly twelve months, but he would miss her, and he would mourn her. Harry looked up as a somber healer entered, he didn't really listen to the healer tell him what he already knew, he did say he would be planning the funeral.


	9. IX

Harry hadn't moved around a lot in the manor, the things he had accumulated over the past ten years joined the Malfoy's ancestral things and it made for nothing more than an odd collection of trinkets. The house elf he had gotten as compensation from the Ministry, Snorkack (named by Luna) had a particular fondness for dusting and baking, and was really free to do whatever he wanted, and was happy enough to passify Hermione's never ending S.P.E.W. rampages.

He saw Ron and Hermione only occasionally. He was good friends with George, having worked at the joke shop for seven years now, and he and Neville were on good terms, because Luna was still good friends with Ginny. While he still avoided the Wizarding world, he was happy with his friends and always had his family.

He had a son and a daughter. Lily was eight and Lysander was five and they had moved into the manor two years ago. At first Draco swore he wouldn't interfere with their lives, and Harry didn't argue knowing, rightly so, about a month would pass before Draco started trying to scare the kids, then another week passed before Harry was introducing them. Lily thought it was a good laugh and had taken to Draco right away, three year old Lysander thought it was not funny at all and hadn't warmed up to Draco until rather recently.

Harry got up at six every morning and made breakfast if he could beat Snorkack to it, and the kids joined him around eight and Luna came down not long after that. It was Monday today, and she was ready for work, having been woken up by Draco, who was now whispering something to Lily, causing a terrifyingly Slytherin grin to come across her face.

Harry dished out breakfast, stopping Luna from her rushing to give her a quick kiss.

She screwed up her face. "Smelly morning breath, Harry."

"The joys of marriage" Draco supplied sarcastically as Harry apologized to his wife.

She laughed it off and sat down to breakfast, helping Lysander with his.

"What are we doing today daddy?" Lily asked. Harry smiled at her.

"I think Teddy's going to babysit today, with uncle Draco's help." He said with a smile, Lily smiled wide.

"I love Uncle Teddy!" She said, "He's so funny."

"Pants at babysit though," Draco mutted, "lets them have fizzy drink all the time and never makes them do their homework."

"Well I love uncle Draco!" Lysander shot at Lily, who sneered at him, exactly like Draco taught her to sneer. "He's really smart, and he looks after us properly.

Harry looked between his kids with an odd expression. "You two," he said rolling his eyes. He turned when Luna tapped his shoulder. She pointed to the door to the kitchen, where Draco was beckoning him frantically, and Harry jumped up and followed him into the next room.

"What's wrong?" He asked, Draco looked at him with more worry that he ever had before.

"I have to go," he said, "for good."

"What?" Harry looked at him with a frown, "what on earth are you-"

"I can hear my mother calling me." Draco said, I, whatever was keeping me here has been fulfilled."

"What was it?" Harry asked, Draco looked more frantic.

"Your kids," he said, "they like me, Merlin, they love me, like family."

"They do," Harry said with an understanding smile. Draco held out his hand, and Harry grabbed it, and shook it, then pulled his friend in for a hug.

"I love you too, Draco, you're my best friend, and I'd have none of this, if not for you."

"Thank you Harry," Draco said, he smiled thickly, "goodbye. For a _long_ time, at least."

Harry laughed, but his eyes were tearing up. "I'd hope so, probably be something like a week and a half to you though."

Draco laughed, and he became less material. Lines blurred, and he was gone. Luna came to him then, gently touching his shoulder. He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair and he cried.

"I've already called George, he said take as long as you need, and Teddy's been owled, he's not coming today, and I got today off from work."

Harry didn't respond, he did hiccup due to the hysterics, and he took a deep breath and looked at Luna.

"Your bottom lip is wobbling." She said. He nodded.

"He's gone," was all Harry managed, Luna nodded sadly. Then grabbed his hand.

"Come on," she led him back to the kitchen.

"Daddy what's wrong?" Lily asked, she stood and came to hug him, and he knelt down and hugged her back. Luna had Lysander by the hand and beckoned Harry to follow them.

He followed his wife in science and she walked onto the manor grounds and into the gardens. She pushed open an old gate and stopped in front of a headstone, one next to where Narcissa was buried. Luna knelt down.

"Uncle Draco was a ghost," she began, "do you know what that means?"

"He's dead," Lysander said, Lily looked between her parents shocked.

"Uncle Draco's gone, isn't he?" She asked Harry nodded.

"His spirit is gone now," Luna said, Lily hugged Harry harder, and Harry gently stroked his daughter's hair. "He was left here because something was missing from his life, and he couldn't move on without it." She said, "and he found it, oh, Lily sweetheart."

Lily was bawling, her face buried in Harry's shoulder, Harry still gently rocking her. "It's a good thing," Luna said, "Draco can be with his mother, and he's still always with you,he's waiting for us, wherever he is."

Lily nodded but the tears continued. Lysander went to the headstone and traced Draco's name, then he touched the headstone and left a handprint in the stone.

"Bye bye Uncle Draco." He said, "see you later."

He poked his handprint and turned to Luna delighted. Lily looked back to the headstone and looked back to Harry. Harry waved his wand and conjured a bunch of flowers.

"To say goodbye," he told her and she took them carefully from the air, and knelt down and put them on the grave.

"Okay," she said, "I'm ok, as long as he's happy."

"He is sweetheart," Luna said, using her thumb to wipe Lily's tears. "I promise he is."


End file.
